


The Big Three... And Hockey

by Aer



Series: Of Hockey and Her Players [1]
Category: Anthropomorphism, Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen, I am weird, Metaphysical Musings, assigning consciousness to concepts, hetalia meets hockey, this is not news
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 10:02:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aer/pseuds/Aer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, people like to joke about the hockey gods... The truth however, is a little more complex.</p>
<p>Hockey always was a unique sport.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Big Three... And Hockey

**Author's Note:**

> ...this was found scribbled on a loose piece of paper shoved in one of my notebooks. I believe it was born out of my frustration at some people that couldn't understand why I love hockey.
> 
> But by now, probably none of you are surprised at anything that comes out of my keyboard!
> 
> (Also, the title is from TV Tropes).

Hockey knows what other sports think of her. They look at her- see the missing tooth, the fighter's scars, the slightly crooked nose- and shake their heads. Turn away. Call her violent, call her foolish, wave off her passion, her very _being_ , as a silly whim. They look at her uniforms; they see the blades on her feet and the stick in her hand, and scoff, as if at a child playing dress up, wondering how a sheet of ice and a disc of rubber could inspire such fervor. But worst of all, they look at her _players_ \- the blood and rage and ferocity they live and breath, the bitter cold of their battle field- and call them all crazy. Although they never say it aloud where she can hear...

Hockey knows.

But she _doesn't care_. Because _she_ knows the marks her sport leaves behind, and she wears them like the badges of honor she knows them to be. Her uniform is her armor, from her helmet to her skates, her battle standard flyng proudly on her chest and her _body as the weapon_ , her stick an extension of everything she is. She sees her players, _knows_ them, her pride and joy and everything she's fought for. Her game is rough, her players rougher, but she wouldn't want it any other way. Because, with _all the blood and rage and ferocity in her soul_ , she _loves_ \- and they, they love her back.

She demands everything from them- their blood, sweat, tears, their hopes, dreams, lives- and they _give it_ , asking only in return the chance to play her game, the game they love, that game that _is_ her. They give her themselves, and she, she gives herself back. She can do no less than they.

She is hockey, after all.


End file.
